


The Spy Who Loved Him

by MimiWritesHerFandoms



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Captain America is not a goody two shoes, Drinking, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Mild Language, Smoking, assassin!reader, enhanced!reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2019-08-20 01:39:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16546361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimiWritesHerFandoms/pseuds/MimiWritesHerFandoms
Summary: You and Steve have a history, a crazy, insane, unbelievable history. You want him and he wants you, but only if you can be real, not hide behind one of the many personas you’ve created over the years. But you can’t seem do that. Or maybe you won’t because you’re afraid of letting someone past the walls you’ve so carefully constructed.





	1. The Woman with a Thousand Lives

**Author's Note:**

> Right before I fell asleep the other night, an image of Steve Rogers - not Chris Evans, Steve Rogers - smoking a cigarette popped in my head. This comes from that. Then I somehow wrote myself into what might potentially be a series.

**_Three Days after the destruction of the helicarriers and the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D._ **

You needed air, needed to get away from the mess that the meeting inside had turned into. It seemed like everyone was yelling, everyone had an opinion, everyone thought their way was the best way. It had descended into madness. Thankfully, Steve had taken control, calling a timeout, telling everyone to take a much needed break. After excusing yourself to use the restroom, you’d snuck out the side door and around the back of the building, hoping to hide from the chaos blooming after the destruction of the helicarriers, the Triskelion, and S.H.I.E.L.D.

The last thing you’d expected to see when you’d rounded the corner was Steve Rogers - Captain America himself - leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette. He had one foot propped against the wall, the cigarette dangling between the fingers of one hand, the other shoved in the pocket of his jeans. He’d only been out of the hospital for a few hours so you could still see the faint bruises healing on his face, the remnant of what would have been a scar on anyone else at the corner of his mouth. You took a second to admire him from a distance, the need for him a constant presence in the back of your head. You reminded yourself that he wasn’t yours to want or need, not anymore, not after the last time, the only time. He’d made that very clear.

But, you didn’t want to think about that, didn’t want to let your brain wander in that direction, so you cleared your throat, drawing his attention your way.

Steve gave you a wry smile and shrugged before putting the cigarette to his mouth and taking a long drag.

“You know those things are bad for you, right?” you muttered as you leaned against the wall beside him.

He tapped the center of his chest. “Super soldier,” he said.

You scoffed and shook your head. “Excuses,” you murmured, your tone light and playful. “I had no idea Captain America smoked.” Yet another secret he’d kept from you, and another reminder that you didn’t know him as well as you thought you did.

Steve chuckled, tipping the cigarette to look at the end of it, before putting it back between his perfectly pink lips. “I used asthma cigarettes as a kid. Started smoking the real thing during the war,” he explained. “First time I took a puff, I froze, waiting for the asthma to hit, for that sensation like my lungs were being squeezed to come, the panic when I couldn’t draw a breath to wash over me. Bucky stood there watching me, this look of utter shock on his face, like he was just waiting to grab me and rush me to the medical tent. Took both of us a second to realize that wasn’t going to happen.” He examined the end of the cigarette again, a shadow crossing his face.

“Steve?” you prompted.

“He was my best friend.” He lifted the cigarette to his lips with a trembling hand and took a drag, blowing the smoke out in a slow exhale, watching it rise and twist above his head. His eyes slipped closed. “Bucky was all I had growing up, he was my friend before the war, he was my friend after it started. Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky.”

“You’ll find him, Steve,” you whispered.

“Even if I do find him, who knows _what_  I’ll find,” Steve replied. “HYDRA ripped him apart and put him back together too many times to count. I’m not even sure he remembers me.”

You edged closer, shoulder to shoulder with the super soldier, the smell of the cigarette in his hand surrounding you. “He saved you, pulled you out of the water.”

“Doesn’t mean he remembers me,” Steve muttered, taking one more drag from the cigarette before dropping it to the ground, stomping on it and grinding it into the pavement. He sighed heavily, pushing his hands through his short blonde hair, his biceps flexing as his fists clenched. “What are we even doing here, Y/N? Trying to figure out how we can protect the world now that it’s in shambles? We shouldn’t be here, doing this, we should be finding HYDRA, stopping them, not sitting in some meeting, debating how to bring back S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“That’s not -”

“Don’t give me the party line, Y/N. That’s exactly what we’re doing,” he snapped. “The so-called people in charge are desperate to bring back their precious watchdog, which for years has been nothing but a pawn in HYDRA’s game. Why should that come back? And why are we the ones responsible for bringing it back?” He blew out an exasperated breath, straightened his shoulders, and made to move past you, but you put a hand on his arm, stopping him. He swung around, his normally friendly blue eyes a storm cloud of emotion, his lips a thin, tight, angry line.

“What?” he growled.

You stood your ground, not about to let an angry Steve Rogers stop you from saying what was on your mind. ““I’m not the enemy, Steve,” you murmured. “Don’t treat me like I am.”

“If you’re not the enemy, Y/N, what are you?” he asked, taking a step closer to you, resting one hand on the wall above your head.

“Whatever you want me to be,” you answered, shifting closer to the tall blonde, staring up and into his cerulean eyes.

Steve shook his head and chuckled. “You sound like Nat,” he muttered angrily.

“I learned from the best,” you shrugged.

“We’ve talked about this. I don’t want the false persona, the one you put on for everyone else. I don’t want the undercover agent, the woman with a thousand lives,” he said. “I want the real, genuine you.” He brushed your cheek with the back of his hand, his lips a breath away from yours. The air between you was thick with unbridled tension, mutual need surrounding the two of you, cloying in its intensity.

“I don’t know if I know how to be real,” you whispered. “I don’t know how to be myself.”

“You were real with me once,” he breathed. “You could do it if you wanted to, but you choose to hide.”

“Steve -”

He cut you off with a kiss, just a brush of his lips over yours, but so much more than that. His hand drifted down your side to rest on your waist, squeezing gently.

“If you figure it out, you know where to find me,” he said before abruptly turning and disappearing back into the building.

You sagged against the wall, your nails digging into the hard brick, the wind suddenly blowing violently around you as your emotions raged. Steve had a strange hold over you, a spell you couldn’t break. But you didn’t know if you could be what he wanted, not when he wanted you to be yourself. You weren’t sure you could remember who or even what you were anymore. You’d spent too many years being someone else.

You were the woman with a thousand lives, the assassin, the spy, the witch, an enhanced being with the power to change the weather and manipulate nature. But none of that mattered. All you wanted was to be loved. And you wanted Steve to be the one to love you.


	2. Passing the Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first, and only time, you and Steve were together

**_Six Months after the Alien Attack on NY_ **

Steve ground his teeth together as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “What do you mean, three days?”

You sagged against the back of the couch, closed your eyes, and dragged in a deep breath. This couldn’t be good.

“Just make it happen, Nat,” Steve growled, followed by what you could only assume was the sound of his phone hitting the coffee table in the middle of the room.

“Well?” you asked without opening your eyes. You didn’t need to see him in order to understand that the never-frazzled Captain America was irritated.

“The S.T.R.I.K.E. team can’t get here for at least three days, maybe longer,” he explained. “There’s heavy fighting on the border. It’s too dangerous.”

“So we’re stuck here?” you sighed.

“Here” was a small, two bedroom cabin in the middle of nowhere. There was nothing around for miles. It had been your base of operations for nearly two weeks - you, Steve, Nat, Clint, and several other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents anyway - not that you’d spent much time there. You and Natasha had been undercover as gun runners posing as escorts - a lie heaped on another lie - Steve and Clint acting as your back up. When the mission had gone sideways, everyone had scattered, and you’d somehow ended up back at base with Steve. 

“Yes,” Steve grumbled. He dropped his helmet on the chair and propped his shield against the wall before stalking across the small living room and into the kitchen. You could hear him rummaging around the cupboards and then the refrigerator opening and closing, before he reappeared beside the couch.

“Kitchen is still fully stocked,” he announced. He eyed you up and down. “You can shower first, if you’d like. You look like you could use it.” 

“I could,” you murmured. “Thanks.” You climbed to your feet, wincing as your aching muscles stretched. Just before you opened the bathroom door, you smiled coyly over your shoulder at Steve. 

“Feel free to join me,” you murmured..

“Y/N,” he huffed, rolling his eyes.

You giggled and winked, then stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind you and leaning against it, the heels you’d been holding by the straps dropping unceremoniously to the floor. You rested your head against the door and closed your eyes, though what you really wanted to do was bang your head against the hard oak until you knocked some sense into yourself. 

What the hell was wrong with you? Why did you always open your mouth and say the wrong _thing_? Why couldn’t you just say what you wanted to say, instead of slipping into one of your fake personas and letting them do the talking?

You took a few seconds to catch your breath before walking toward the bathroom mirror, eyeing the woman staring back at you. She had the wrong hair color, wrong eye color, wrong everything. The woman in the mirror flirted shamelessly with Captain America, made suggestive comments, and flaunted her sexuality. 

She wasn’t you.

The problem was, you had no idea who you were anymore. It was far easier to slip into one of your personas than to let the real you free. Shit, you didn’t think you could be real if you tried. Not anymore, not after years of being someone you weren’t.

You leaned over the sink, pinched the contacts out of your eyes, and washed them down the drain. You yanked your hair into a ponytail and twisted it into a bun at the top of your head, then you turned on the water, stepping in before it was even lukewarm, the freezing droplets making you shiver. Your teeth were chattering by the time the water began to warm, the heat spreading slowly through you, easing your tense and aching muscles.

The towels in the cupboard were large and fluffy, so you were able to easily wrap one all the way around your body. You chanced another look in the mirror, and at least this time, your own eyes were staring back at you, instead of a stranger’s.

You took a deep breath, put a smile on your face, and pulled open the door. Steve had stripped off his uniform, a t-shirt and blue running pants in its place. A too tight t-shirt that clung obscenely to his pecs, his abdomen and those goddamn biceps. He was sprawled at one end of the couch, one foot resting on the edge of the coffee table, a book propped in his lap. He didn’t even glance your way when you stepped out of the bathroom. You eyed him warily for a second or two, then you hurried the short distance to the room you were using, slipped inside, and quietly shut the door.

* * *

During the next twenty-four hours, you and Steve barely exchanged two dozen words, the two of moving around each other as if the other didn’t exist. It wasn't long before you became restless; you didn't do well with down time, it gave you too much opportunity to think. And in the spy-slash-assassin business, too much time to think was never a good thing. You'd tried to talking to Steve a few times, but when you were met with nothing more than incoherent grunts, you gave up. It probably didn't help that every attempt at conversation started with you delivering some thinly veiled sexual innuendo, which more often than not caused a slight blush to color his cheeks. After your latest attempt, he'd sighed heavily, pushed himself to his feet, and retreated to his room, sitting on the bed with another book propped on his lap.

Bored out of your mind and with nothing better to do, you ventured outside. The weather was cool, enough so that goosebumps rose on your arms as soon as you stepped out the door. You pulled your jacket tight around you and wandered down the small path leading into the woods, coming to a stop under a huge oak tree. You sat beneath it, your back against the trunk, your legs stretched out in front of you. You twirled your pinkie finger, kicking up a small dust devil, sending it spinning through the red and orange leaves scattered around the base of the tree. With a flick of your wrist, a small plant near your foot began to grow, crawling up your calf, wrapping itself around your leg as it moved. You blinked and small flowers blossomed along the vines, delicate pink and purple buds. You closed your eyes and let the sounds of the forest wash over you.

"Y/N?"

Your eyes shot open, but you couldn't see a thing. Disoriented, you stumbled to your feet, panic coursing through your veins. It was dark, too dark, so dark you were blind, unable to see your hand in front of your face. You swallowed down the scream rising in your throat. Not this, anything but this. 

"Y/N?" Steve's voice echoed through the night.

"Steve?" It was nothing more than a shaky gasp of air, barely penetrating the darkness, let alone rising above the thick forest sounds surrounding you. You took two steps forward, hands out in front of you, blind in the pitch black night. “Steve?”

A hand closed around your arm and you screamed, thunder booming over head, a streak of lightning lighting up the night.

“Damn it, Y/N, it’s me.” Steve snapped, his face inches from yours, his voice penetrating through the fear coursing through you.

You sagged against him, clutching his arms. He dragged you back down the path to the cabin, up the steps, and inside. He snagged a blanket from the end of the couch and wrapped it around you, his hands rubbing your arms.

“What the hell were you doing out there?” he grumbled. “It’s damn near freezing.”

“I-I we-went for a w-w-w-”

“You went for a walk,” he nodded. “Fine. But you’ve been gone for hours. I kept expecting you to come back, but you didn’t, so I figured I better look for you.” He pushed you down on the couch. “Sit. I’m gonna start a fire.”

You pulled the blanket around yourself and nodded, watching as Steve quickly started a fire. Within minutes, it was roaring, the heat rolling across the room. You relaxed as the warmth washed over you.

“You okay?” Steve asked, sitting at the opposite end of the couch, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees.

You opened your mouth, prepared to tell him you were fine and to thank him for helping you inside, but that was not what came out.

“I’d be better if you were over here helping me warm up,” you murmured, low and seductive. “Why are you so far away?”

“Seriously, Y/N?”

You ignored Steve’s irritated tone, and your own turbulent thoughts, threw off the blanket, and crawled down the couch, quickly straddling the super soldier. He shifted uneasily, snorting out of his nose. You grabbed his hands and moved them to your waist, wiggling just a little, enjoying the slight wince from Steve. You cupped his face in your hands and leaned over him.

“Come on, Stevie,” you whispered. “You and me, just one night. Could be a fun way to pass the time.” Your lips brushed across his, your thumbs caressing his cheekbones.

Steve’s hands slid up your side and down your arms, wrapping around your wrists. He pulled your hands away from his face, holding them against your body.

“What are you doing, Y/N?” he sighed.

“Wondering why we’re talking instead of getting naked,” you giggled, squirming and trying to get your hands free.

“This isn’t you,” he mumbled.

“I’m pretty sure it is,” you breathed, rocking your hips a little. You could have sworn you felt his cock twitch with interest.

Steve growled, the sound vibrating through you, sparking an unfamiliar sensation low in your gut. He picked you up and laid you on the couch, hovering over you.

“I won’t sleep with you, Y/N,” he said. “Not when you’re like this, not when you’re acting like someone I know you’re not.” He pushed off the couch, muttering under his breath as he stalked across the room, his door slamming so hard it sounded like a gunshot going off. You couldn’t help but flinch.

You threw your arm over your eyes and exhaled loudly. What the hell were you doing? Jesus, being around Steve made you nervous, unbelievably nervous, to the point that you couldn’t be yourself; instead you dragged out one of your alter-egos, someone who could flirt, and smile, and be sexy, everything you thought you weren’t. And it backfired every time. When would you learn?

You rolled off the couch and wandered into the kitchen. You were pretty sure you’d seen a bottle of Jack Daniels in one of the cabinets, probably left the last time Clint had been at the cabin. Sure enough, you found it behind the coffee mugs above the sink. You grabbed a mug and poured yourself a shot, swallowing it down in one gulp, wincing as it burned your throat. You poured another, drank it, contemplated putting the whiskey back in the cupboard, then decided against it, taking the bottle and mug with you back to the living room. You stoked the fire before sliding to the floor and leaning against the couch, pulling the blanket over your lap.

You were an idiot. You’d been half in love with Steve Rogers since he’d come out of the ice, but you’d never been able to tell him, fearing his rejection. After all, how could the world’s greatest hero love a HYDRA trained assassin? An assassin who had an issue with honesty, especially when it came to being honest with herself? Despite your defection from HYDRA and your subsequent attempts to do the right thing, to make up for years of doing wrong, you would never be good enough for Captain America. You would never be good enough for anyone.

You downed two more mugs of Jack, the burn now barely noticeable, your head beginning to feel slightly fuzzy. You closed your eyes, the image of storm clouds playing behind your eyelids. A crack of thunder echoed through the house, startling you, your eyes popping open.

“Shit,” you mumbled under your breath.

A burst of wind rattled the windows and another crack of thunder rolled through the quiet night while lightning streaked across the dark. You blew out a shaky breath, trying to calm your nerves, even as rain pelted the side of the cabin.

Steve was suddenly a looming presence above you, his blue eyes flashing in the firelight.

“Are you doing that?” he asked, pointing at the heavy rain hitting the window by the door.

“Mm-hm,” you nodded. “M-my emotions are all over the p-place. S-sorry.”

One of Steve’s eyebrows quirked in that annoyingly adorable way of his, his head tipping to one side. He slowly sat down beside you, his knee touching yours. He reached over and took your hand, squeezing it gently.

“I’m not that person, Steve,” you whispered, staring into the fire, your words slightly slurred. You’d definitely had too much to drink. “I’m not the woman I pretend to be. I wish you could see the real me.”

He stroked the back of your hand with his thumb, his eyes downcast. “I wish you would show me the real you,” he responded. “That’s the girl I want to know, Y/N.”

“I can’t -” Wind shook the small cabin, the rain pummeling the windows.

Steve cupped your face in his hand, his fingers caressing your cheek. He forced you to look at him, leaning over you, his eyes piercing your soul. You inhaled sharply even as his lips met yours, the kiss soft, gentle, probing, his tongue licking across your lower lip. Your mouth dropped open, his tongue sliding across your teeth and into your mouth, a soft moan leaving him as his nose brushed against yours. He slipped his arm around you, pulling you tight against his body. Even after the two of you broke apart, he continued brushing his fingers against your cheek, his blue eyes boring into yours.

“You can,” he murmured. “You just don’t want to. You can trust me, Y/N.”

“Steve, what are you doing?” you sighed.

“I’m trying to help you understand that you don’t have to play pretend with me, doll,” he answered. “I don’t need the games, the sexual innuendos, the woman who throws herself at me, flirting shamelessly. I don’t need it and I don’t want it. You’re so damn frustrating, you know that?”

“What do you want, Steve?” you asked.

“I want you,” he replied. “I want you to stop playing games, being what you think I want. Just be you.”

You shook your head. “I can’t be what you want me to be.”

“Stop trying to be anything,” Steve said, his forehead resting against yours. “Take a second and let go, don’t think about the next second, the next word out of your mouth. Stop trying to impress me and win me over. Give me a chance to see the real you, not whatever persona you think I want. Just breathe and let go.”

You nodded, a shaky breath leaving you, your arms sliding around Steve’s neck, his mouth slanting over yours as he drew you close. Before you knew it, the two of you were sprawled in front of the fireplace, Steve notched between your legs, exchanging kisses that had your body burning with need.

God, it felt so good to let yourself go, to trust someone so explicitly that you could put aside the pretenses, the lies, the falsehoods that normally dictated your life. Being with Steve was easy and uncomplicated. You could get used to it.

You hooked a leg around the back of Steve’s thigh, pulling him closer, your body undulating beneath his, moaning as his hands roamed over you. His lips slid down your jaw and down your neck, closing over your pulse point, sucking greedily.

“Steve,” you gasped, a shudder running through you.

“Mmmm,” he hummed, his arms sliding around you as he rose to his feet. You hooked your legs around his waist, your face buried against the side of his neck, murmuring incoherently as he crossed the living room to his bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind him. He kicked the door shut and lowered you to the bed, his mouth on yours.

You didn’t even notice that the storm outside had stopped completely.

* * *

You woke to the sound of Steve’s voice coming through the open door. You sat up, squinting at the bright light filtering through the thin curtains covering the window. You wrapped the sheet around yourself and followed the sound of his voice.

“One hour,” he said. “We’ll be ready.” He disconnected his phone and shoved it in his pocket. A smile spread across his face when he noticed you standing in the doorway. He opened his arms and you stepped into them, pressing your face against his chest. He kissed the top of your head. “That was Natasha. They’re coming early. They’ll be here in an hour.”

“An hour, huh?” you murmured, rising up on your toes to kiss him.

Steve’s arms tightened around you, his lips sliding up your jaw, his breath hot against your skin. “There’s not enough time for the things I want to do to you, Y/N. But I promise you, I’ll make time later.” He kissed you again, soft and gentle, then he was gone, moving across the kitchen, snatching his duffel off the floor, and going into the bathroom.

The hour passed quickly with you and Steve gathering your things and working to close up the cabin, with only a couple of momentary distractions, such as Steve being unable to keep his hands to himself. It seemed like no time at all before you heard the tell-tale signs of the quinjet, just one hour after you'd found Steve on the phone with Natasha. It landed in the empty field behind the cabin, the ramp lowering before it had barely touched down, Natasha and Clint hitting the ground running. Less than thirty seconds later, you were in the air, heading for the border.

“Sorry we left you guys stranded,” Clint said. “Things got a little crazy. Still aren’t great, but we had a window -”

"Glad you grabbed it when you could," Steve said, clapping Clint on the shoulder. "I hate being cooped up."

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad," Natasha smirked, winking at you.

You weren’t sure why, or honestly, even how, it happened, but you felt it, felt the shift in your body language, felt the change in your demeanor. You cocked a hip, tipped your head to one side, and smiled, your best cat-that-got-the-canary grin.

"Mmm, Steve was more than happy to help me pass the time," you purred, stroking his chest with one hand, your other closing around his elbow. You rested your head on his shoulder, and batted your eyelashes seductively. "Steve is very...creative." An intentionally salacious giggle escaped you.

Steve yanked his arm free of your embrace with a loud huff, spun on his heel, and disappeared into the back of the quinjet. You turned to follow him, but Nat grabbed your arm, pulling you away from Clint into a quiet corner.

“Please tell me you two did the deed,” she whispered. “God knows Steve needs to get laid.”

“Nat, shut up,” you hissed, glancing back at Steve.

A smile spread across her face. “Oh, you did, didn’t you?” She steepled her fingers beneath her chin, rocking back and forth on her heels, giggling gleefully. “Thank God. Maybe he’ll relax a little.”

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t respond, instead turning and hurrying to the back of quinjet, sliding to a stop in front of Steve and dropping to your knees in front of him. You opened your mouth to apologize, to tell him you were sorry for acting like a fool. Unfortunately, that was not came out.

“Hey, baby, don’t be mad,” you cooed, your voice dropping and your hands sliding up Steve’s thighs. You leaned into him, your breasts against his chest, and pressed a kiss to his lips. He didn’t respond, in fact, he didn’t even move. His hands were clenched at his sides, his mouth a tight, drawn line.

“This isn’t you, Y/N,” he growled.

“Maybe it is,” you shrugged, giggling at the shocked look on Steve’s face.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Trying to get you to smile,” you whispered, palming his cock with your right hand.

Steve took hold of your shoulders and pushed you away from him, your ass hitting the floor. He rose to his feet and, without looking at you, stepped past you and joined Clint at the front of the quinjet, easing into the seat just behind him, his arms crossed, his face unnervingly stoic.

You spent the remainder of the trip in the back corner of the quinjet, as far from Steve as possible, ignoring Nat’s confused glances and chastising yourself for yet again making a fool of yourself with Steve. The two of you had made so much progress, only to have you screw it up again.

As soon as you landed in D.C., you hurried off the quinjet, sprinting down the stairs and inside. You were almost to the elevator when you heard Steve calling your name. They next thing you knew, you were in one of the empty offices with Steve towering over you.

“Steve, I’m so sorry -”

“Cut the bullshit, Y/N,” he snapped. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Was anything that happened between us even real? Or was it all just a lie? I don’t know what to believe anymore. Every time I think I know who you are, every time I think that you’re not putting up a front, you pull some shit like you just pulled.”

“I don’t know what came over me,” you mumbled. “I swear that wasn’t me.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore, Y/N,” he sighed. “I feel like you’re playing me for the fool, that every word out of that gorgeous mouth of yours is nothing but a goddamn lie. I told you, I want you, not the lie.”

“I know,” you whispered. “Please, Steve, just give me a chance.”

Steve shook his head. “I can’t. I won’t play games, Y/N, I just won’t.” He kissed your forehead. “I’m sorry, doll.” He took a step back and straightened his shoulders, staring at a spot just over your head. “We’re debriefing in thirty minutes. Don’t be late.”

You watched him leave, hoping and praying he would turn around and look at you,  _ see _  you, the real you, the you that you kept hidden, the one you wanted him to see. But he didn’t; he just left, staring at the ground as he walked past the elevator and down the stairs. 

You didn’t follow him, not for a long time after he walked away.


	4. Stripped Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Steve go on an undercover mission, just not the same mission.

**_Four months after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D._ **

“What the hell is this?” Steve tossed the mission file on Hill’s desk.

“The next mission,” Agent Hill replied, dragging out the words. “What did you think it was?”

“Why is Y/N going in as a stripper?” Steve growled.

“Because we suspect the alien tech is being sold out of the basement of the club,” Hill said, sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest.

Steve sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. “Why not Nat? Or you?”

Maria laughed, her entire body shaking. “Nat’s in Columbia and my undercover experience is nothing compared to Y/N’s. She’s been trained for this kind of thing. Extensively trained. You know that, Steve. She’s the logical choice. I’ll be running things from base.”

“I don’t like it.”

“It doesn’t matter what you like,” Hill shrugged. “It is what it is. Y/N’s going in, her cover is already in place. She’ll be in Jersey City tomorrow, she starts tomorrow night.”

“And I’m just supposed to sit back and watch it happen?”

“Yes, Steve, you are. And you won’t interfere. Besides, you have your own mission.”

“I still don’t like it,” he repeated.

“So you’ve said,” Maria snapped. “But it’s already arranged, so it’s happening. End of story.”

Steve stalked from the office without looking back, his shoulders tight and stiff.

* * *

You’d hoped Steve wouldn’t come, that somehow, for some reason, he would sit this mission out. And for once, your luck held. But, that didn’t change the fact that you missed him or that you couldn’t help but wonder where he was and what he was doing.

The two of you weren’t a thing, you weren’t an item, though there were times, too many of them as far as you were concerned, that Steve acted like he owned you, like he had some kind of claim to you. It always seemed to come out of nowhere, taking you by surprise. For weeks he would ignore you, act as if you didn’t exist, then he would do a one-eighty and start hovering over you, watching your every move, acting protective of you despite having no right. It was driving you crazy.

Your relationship with Steve - if it could be called a relationship - was hot and cold. The two of you had been together on a handful of occasions, though it had been nearly three months since the last time. Each time left you more confused than the last.

You were pretty goddamn sure you were in love with Steve, but you didn’t know if he loved you or if he got a kick out of using you for his own pleasure. He had gotten unbelievably good at keeping his emotions in check, almost as good as you. It left you a confused mess.

But, two could play his game, and you had gotten very adept at locking away any emotions over the years; it was what you’d been trained to do.

You yanked your hair off of your neck, twisting into a loose bun on the top of your head. It was hot in the club, too hot. The manager, Bryant, said it kept the girls glistening. No, it made you fucking sweat, forcing you to lather on the deodorant multiple times a night, along with an ozone-destroying ton of perfume. Not to mention, the obscene amount of glitter present in the strip club had a tendency to cling to sweaty places glitter was never meant to be. You straightened the thin pieces of cloth covering your breasts, put a smile on your face, and stepped onto the floor. You walked past the crowded tables, smiling at the patrons, lonely men and women just looking for companionship anywhere they could find it. You slipped onto one of the barstools at the end of the bar, turned toward the crowd, intent on finding your mark. You’d been in this stupid club for almost two weeks and you were no closer to finding him than you’d been at the start of the mission.

“Anything?” Clint set the bottle of water on the bar in front of you.

“Nope,” you replied, popping the P, along with your gum. You hated the stuff, but in your head, the ditzy stripper persona you’d taken on always had gum in her mouth.

Clint shook his head, his brow furrowed, his hands fisted on the counter. “We’re running out of time. The buyers will be in the country in two days. We need to find the sellers before they get here.”

“I know,” you whispered. You took a sip from the bottle of water, your eyes roaming the bar. 

“Y/N, how’s it going?” Bryant walked up behind Clint, leering over his shoulder at you.

You put a smile on your face and forced your voice up an octave. “Oh my god, Bryant, hi,” you gushed. “It’s going so great! What about you?”

“I’m good, sweetheart,” he grinned, coming around the bar and propping himself against it, right next to you. His finger traced circles on your arm. You resisted the urge to punch him and pull away. “You getting to know our new bartender?”

“Yeah,” you laughed, winking at Clint. “He’s cute.”

Clint had the decency to blush, probably because he knew Nat would punch you if she ever heard you call her boyfriend cute. “Thanks,” he murmured.

Bryant shot an irritated glance at Clint before straightening up to his full height and clearing his throat. “Look, Y/N, there’s a private party downstairs, tonight. Money’s real good. You interested?”

“Are you shitting me?” you gasped. “Of course I am!”

“Perfect, be ready at nine. Tiny will escort you downstairs.” Bryant pointedly looked at his watch. “Aren’t you on soon?”

You stole a glance at the clock on the wall. “Shit, yeah, I’m on in ten.”

“Good girl,” Bryant murmured. “I’ll see you later.” He nodded at Steve before easing down the length of the bar.

You waited until Bryant was out of ear shot before turning to Clint. “That’s going to be my chance. Tonight, at that private party.”

The marksman nodded. “We need to be ready for anything. Make sure you’re on comms.”

“I better go,” you said, finishing the last of your water and leaning over the counter to toss the empty bottle in the trash. “Catch you on the flipside, H.E.”

Clint rolled his eyes and laughed, waving as you sauntered away. 

You hurried back through the crowd and down the dimly lit hallway into the dressing room, the smell of sweat and baby oil assaulting you as soon as you came through the door. You opened your locker and pulled out your  [ costume ](http://www.upscalestripper.com/costumes/superhero-costumes/sexy-roma-womens-adult-captain-america-costume.html) . Every time you put it on, you couldn’t help but smile, if not outright laugh. You just wished Steve could have seen you the first time you’d walked on stage, small plastic shield in hand, David Lee Roth’s Yankee Rose blasting from the speakers. The look on his face would have been priceless.

Five minutes later, you were on stage, shimmying to the music, one hand over your head, gripping the silver pole. You closed your eyes and let the music take control of your body.

It was surprisingly easy to slip into this persona, the stripper persona. It was just a matter of letting yourself go, of giving into the music, surrendering to it. You shut everything out, pushed everything out of your head, and just danced.

Once your set was over, you slipped offstage, and yanked on the robe one of the other girls handed you. You hurried back to the dressing room and pulled your costume back on, along with a short, red skirt, and a pair of fingerless gloves. After you made sure no one was looking, you slipped the comm device in your ear. This was the part of the evening you lived for, the chance to gather information, the chance to do your job, not act the part of a ditzy stripper.

The crowd seemed larger than usual, louder, rowdier, maybe due to the bachelor party in the corner, or the biker gang that had appeared out of nowhere. Not only were they more obnoxious than usual, but they were a lot more handsy, reaching out to touch you, to brush a hand against your back, or over your hip. You had to remind them several times that they weren’t allowed to touch you.

You stole a glance at Clint out of the corner of your eye, but he wasn’t looking your direction, instead he was serving drinks and chatting with some guy in a suit that was seated at the bar, hopefully someone important. The time on the wall clock said ten minutes to nine, so you started making your way back to the dressing room to meet Tiny, the club’s resident bodyguard. You were nearly there when you felt a hand on your elbow. Tired of fending off the advances of the drunk frat boys and wasted bikers, you spun around, hands up, ready to take down whoever had dared touch you. 

It was Bryant standing behind you, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Sorry, Y/N,” he grinned. “I didn’t mean to startle you. You got a minute?” He jerked his head toward his office door.

“Sure,” you nodded.

You followed the club owner into his office, easing yourself into one of the chairs in front of the desk while he closed the door. You crossed your legs and tried to appear relaxed, when in reality, you were poised for a fight.

“I have a request for a private dance,” Bryant said.

Your eyes narrowed and you shifted uneasily in your seat. “Oh? That doesn’t usually warrant a private conversation.”

“This is an important client,” Bryant explained. “A very important client. Herman Schultz.”

You sat up a little straighter. You knew that name.

“He’s one of Adrian Toomes’ crew,” Agent Hill’s voice said in your ear. “He’s got to be the seller. You have to say yes, Y/N.”

“Okay, sure” you shrugged, a goofy smile - or what you hoped was a goofy smile - on your face. “Whatever you want.”

“Good, I was hoping you’d agree. The dance isn’t actually for him, it’s for one of his business partners. Apparently the guy was pretty taken with you, so Schultz got the dance as kind of a thank you. He paid a lot of money for it, make it worth the cash. Understood?”

You nodded, snapping the gum in your mouth. Of course you understood. Not only was Bryant a potential alien tech arms dealer, he was a sleazeball pimp as well. He was expecting you to do more than dance. Too bad whoever had “bought” you would be suffering from a case of blue balls by the time the night was over.

A few minutes later, you found yourself in one of the private rooms situated in the back of the renovated basement, music playing on the stereo in the corner, bouncing on your toes as you waited for the mark. If Schultz was a big deal, then this guy must be a bigger deal. You needed to turn on the charm to get what you needed.

You spun on your heel when the door opened, your mouth falling open in a startled “O” when you saw who was standing in front of you. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. He’d grown a beard since you’d last seen him, a full beard, and his hair had grown out quite a bit. You couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to hold it tight, the strands wrapped around your fingers while he fucked you against the wall.

“Hey, doll,” he purred.

* * *

As soon as he’d entered the club with Schultz, he knew he would see her, it was just a matter of when. Within the hour, she’d taken the stage, in, of all things, a female version of his uniform. A version that left nothing to the imagination. Not that he had to do much more than close his eyes to know what she looked like without a stitch of clothing covering her body. By the time she was done, there was nothing left for anyone to imagine. He’d sat back in his seat with a huff, irritation crawling over his skin like a livewire.

“You liked her, didn’t you?” Schultz chuckled.

“Yeah,” Steve nodded. “Yeah, I did.” Unfortunately.

Schultz gestured to someone Steve couldn’t see, whispered something in the man’s ear, and slipped him some cash. It wasn’t long before a large man Schultz referred to as Tiny appeared at the table and asked Steve to follow him.

The wound their way through tables and down a set of steep stairs, finally coming to a stop in front of a closed door. Steve could hear the thump of a bass heavy song coming from the other side of the solid wood. Tiny swung the door open and, after weeks of not seeing her, he came face to face with Y/N.

Her mouth fell open, a small ‘o’ leaving her on a gasping breath, and a blush colored her cheeks. Before she could blurt out his name, he spoke up.

“Hey, doll.” He crossed the room to stand in front of her, close enough to breathe in her familiar scent, but not close enough to touch, though he wanted to touch her, he ached to touch her. “Roger Grant.”

Her posture stiffened and Steve could see her shift into her persona, whichever one she’d chosen for this mission, a shift in her body language, a change in her eyes. She stepped up close to him, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

“Well, aren’t you a handsome one, Mr. Grant. Come on in and take a seat. Let’s see what I can do for you.” She pushed up on her toes, now so close he could smell the gum in her mouth. “I promise you’ll have a good time.”

Steve heard the door behind them close and then, they were alone. He opened his mouth to speak, but Y/N pressed a finger to his lips, her eyes flicking briefly to a camera in the corner, then back to him. He blinked, tipping his chin just enough to let her know he understood.

She wrapped the end of his tie around her hand and tugged, guiding him to the chair in the center of the room. He let her, watching the sway of her hips, remembering what it felt like to slide his hands over them, to pull her body back against his, and rock his hips against hers, his cock hot and hard. He dropped into the chair with a grunt.

Y/N laughed, the sound so much like her normal laugh, her  _ real _  laugh, that it sent a shockwave of desire rolling down his spine and straight to his dick. She was enjoying this, he could tell. She took two steps back, closed her eyes, and started to sway, her hips moving with the music, her hands sliding over her body. She rolled her hips, her chest, her arms, one sinuous movement that made Steve’s heart race and his cock throb.

“C’mere,” Steve ordered.

She didn’t hesitate, just moved with the music, easing herself onto his lap, grinding down on him, her hands on his shoulders, her lips pressed to his ear.

“What are you doing here?” She undulated her hips, drawing a groan from him.

“Fuck, Y/N, watch it,” he growled, intentionally keeping his voice low.

She dragged a hand down his chest, smiling as she twisted the tie around her hand again. It tightened on his throat, making him gasp.

“What are you doing here?” she repeated.

“I’m working undercover as a buyer, trying to get a meet with Toomes,” he whispered.

“Toomes is the seller,” she murmured. “I knew it.” Her eyes darted to the camera, then her mouth was against his ear again. “You can touch me. In fact, you should or they’re gonna get suspicious. 

His hands settled on her thighs, squeezing gently, his calloused thumbs rubbing circles on her inner leg. He smirked knowingly when goosebumps rose on her skin and a quiet, breathy moan slipped past her lips. So, she wasn’t immune to his touch after all.

“Mmmm, just like that,” she sighed, grinding harder. She leaned in, pressing harder against the swell of his cock, writhing against him.

“Y/N,” he groaned, shaking his head.

“Does this get you all hot and bothered? Does it make you wanna fuck me,  _ Roger _ ?”

Steve bit back yet another groan, determined to keep his cool, but his hips betrayed him, rising to meet the warmth between Y/N’s legs. God, all he could picture was slamming her into the wall and fucking her until she screamed his name, his real name.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Fucking me?” She rolled her hips and Steve couldn’t do anything but bite his lip, gnawing at it unmercifully, trying to keep from exploding in his dress pants. Y/N licked the lobe of his ear, making it tingle, right where she knew he liked it, right where she knew it was sure to draw a reaction. She bit the lobe of his ear and his whole body jerked.

Both of Y/N’s arms slid around his neck, her body completely flush against his, her breasts pressed to his chest, the two of them moving against each other, mimicking the act of sex, bodies moving in sync, panting and groaning. Y/N is murmuring in his ear, incoherent sounds that made the desire an unbearable ache low in his gut.

His cock was throbbing, drops of pre-come leaking down the aching shaft, pooling at the base. He groaned, one hand clamping down on her hips, his fingers tangling in her hair, yanking her head back, his mouth slanting over hers, a low growl coming from him.

Y/N pushed herself off of him, stumbling backwards until her back hit the door. Steve moaned in frustration and pushed a hand through his hair.

“Time’s up,” she muttered, ripping the door open and vanishing into the depths of the dark basement.

* * *

You pushed your motel room door closed and leaned against it, your head falling back to hit the hard wood. You sighed heavily, scrubbed a hand over your face, and fumbled for the light switch by the door.

“Rough day?”

You jumped, a scream leaving you, thunder cracking outside the window.

“Jesus Christ, Steve, you scared the shit out of me,” you gasped.

“Sorry, doll,” he murmured, shrugging one shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” You pushed away from the door, yanked the ponytail from your hair, and stripped off your jacket.

“You’ve been asking me that question a lot tonight,” Steve chuckled.

“You keep showing up in places I don’t expect to see you,” you snapped, the wind outside howling as your irritation spiked. You dragged in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Look, I’m gonna take a shower, wash the baby oil and glitter off of myself. If you’re still here when I get out -”

“I will be.”

“Mission debrief?” you asked.

Steve shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

You stepped into the bathroom and stripped off your clothes, kicking them under the bathroom sink. Once the water was almost too hot to stand, you stepped into the shower and quickly washed your hair and body, glitter swirling down the drain like a spiraling rainbow. You took the time to dry your hair until it fell in soft waves over your shoulder, brushed your teeth, and pulled on a t-shirt and some underwear. Steve was still sitting in the same chair when you opened the door, though he had a drink in his hand.

“Still here, huh?”

He pushed himself to his feet and crossed the room in several long strides, setting his drink on the table as he passed it. “I have no intention of leaving, not until I’ve fucked you senseless.”

“Language, Captain,” you murmured.

Steve stopped in front of you, his broad chest rising and falling, gnawing on his lower lip, his blue eyes flashing with lust. He put his hands on the wall, on either side of your head, and leaned over you. “Why do we keep playing this game?”

“Because you want me, but you’re afraid to admit it,” you whispered. “You’re afraid to admit that you want me, that despite my flaws, despite everything wrong with me, you  _ want _  me.”

“Y/N,” Steve muttered. “You know how I feel -”

“I know,” you sighed. “I just wish you knew.” Rather than wait for him to say anything, to argue with you, or to make excuses, you fisted your hands in his shirt and yanked him close, your lips crashing into his.

His hand slid up your side, cupping your breast, kneading it, caressing the nipple through the thin t-shirt. His hands were everywhere, exploring your body, touching you in all the ways he’d learned you liked. You stifled a moan as he pulled you tight against him, his arousal evident against your stomach. You pushed your hand between your bodies and palmed his cock, feeling it jump behind the zipper of his pants.

Steve bit gently at your lower lip and shoved your shirt up, his huge hand closing over your breast. He took the nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pinched it, causing it to harden immediately. You threw your head back, giving him the go ahead to assault your neck. His lips slid down the column of your neck and over your pulse point. He sucked, pulling blood to the surface, marking you.

You tangled your fingers in hair, tugging at the strands, holding him to your neck. With your other hand, you unbuttoned his jeans, easing it inside his tight boxer briefs. Steve released a gasping breath against your neck as your fingers brushed over the tip of his hard shaft and slid along the length, tracing the vein on the underside with your finger. You caressed him, stroking your hand up and down his cock until he was trembling under your touch.

Steve pushed you against the wall, his hands tearing at your clothes. He dropped to his knees, his hands sliding up your legs and his fingers hooking in your underwear. He slid them down your legs, his eyes never leaving yours as he slowly removed them. He tossed them over his shoulder, a cocky, I’m-about-to-be-bad smirk crossing his face as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your inner thigh. He slid his nose up your leg until he reached your warm center, his tongue slipping out and licking a line along the soft folds.

Your head fell back against the wall and you had to bite your lip to keep yourself from making any noise. When Steve’s tongue pushed inside of you, a breathy, needy keening sound slipped past your lips. You reached for him, but he grabbed your wrists and held them against the wall on either side of you. You closed your eyes and let the moment take you.

Holy shit, the things Steve could do with his tongue. By the time he released you, you were a complete puddle of need, throbbing and aching with desire. He let go of your wrists and stood up, pushing his pants down past his hips, freeing himself. He picked you up, holding you against the wall, and pushed his hips into yours, the tip of his cock sliding against your wet pussy. He caught your lips in his, a hard kiss that took your breath away. You could taste yourself on his tongue and it was unbelievable.

With a quiet sigh, Steve slid inside of you, his lips still on yours, his tongue slipping deep into your mouth as he entered you, swallowing your moans. Once he was fully seated, he began to move in tight, short thrusts.

You dug your nails into his shoulders as he began to move, but Steve was having none of that. He took both of your hands in his, holding your wrists, and yanking them up over your head. He held them there, his other hand beneath your ass, holding you against the wall as he repeatedly thrust into you.

Steve took your earlobe between his teeth, biting it, just a touch of pain to go with the intense pleasure working its way through your body. He moved faster, pushing you closer to the edge until you were gone, coming so hard and so fast you felt like you might pass out. He released your wrists and buried his face in your neck as he came a few seconds later, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as his own orgasm consumed him.

Once it was over, he held you against the wall, softly kissing your neck and shoulder, in particular the bite mark he’d given you. After a few minutes, he turned and stumbled to the bed, laying you across it, his body covering yours.

“Stay,” you murmured.

“I can’t.” He kissed the tip of your nose and pushed himself to his feet. “The buy is in the morning. Address is on the notepad.” He nodded toward the notepad on the table as he buttoned his slacks. “Hill has the details. We’ll take him down, together.” He leaned over you, a hand by your head, and pressed a kiss to the center of your forehead.

“Together,” you whispered as you watched the door swing shut behind him.


	5. Hunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’re on the run, hiding from Secretary of State Ross after violating the Sokovia Accords.

 

Your powers had first manifested during your training in the Red Room, perhaps brought to the forefront by what you were forced to endure. You couldn’t quite remember when or what exactly had happened to trigger it, you could only remember that your anger had been all-consuming, forcing everything out of your body, sucking the air from your lungs as if you were in a vortex, your heart rate slowing, your limbs frozen. Black clouds had rolled across the sky, thunder crashed, and lightning hit the ground just feet away from you. When your anger had dissipated, so had the storm, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

It hadn’t taken long for your powers to be discovered and for the work of honing them to begin. By the time you were a teenager, you could control the weather with merely a twitch of your finger. The ability to control plant life came along in your early twenties, and again, once it was discovered, you were forced to use it over and over until it was second nature.

Those powers were the reason you were on the run. After the colossal fight at the Berlin airport and all of the Avengers taking one of two sides, after refusing to sign the Sokovian Accords, refusing to let them control you because of your powers, and siding with Steve, who was now a known fugitive, you’d escaped, barely, somehow getting away without getting caught, leaving your friends behind, leaving the only man you’d ever loved behind, both choices that had destroyed your life.

**_Six Months After the Incident at the Berlin Airport:_ **

You hurried through the dense woods, desperate to reach the small cabin on the back of the property, a cabin only a handful of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were even aware existed - Natasha, Steve, Clint. Of course, none of them would swoop in and save you any time soon.

You burst through the door, slamming it behind you. You left the lights off as you crossed the one room cabin, stumbling a bit in the dark. A windstorm was building outside the door, leaves and dirt blowing across the yard, the trees bending as the strength of the gusts built and the force of your anger grew.

You were halfway across the room when the light came on. He was sitting in the chair at the tiny desk in the corner, his long legs stretched out in front of him, arms crossed, his shield leaning against the desk, in easy reach. 

“Jesus Christ, Steve,” you gasped, falling back a step. Thunder cracked in the sky and hail hit the windows. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you,” he replied, surprisingly calm.

“How did you know I’d be here?” you asked quietly.

Steve rose slowly to his feet. “You’re running out of places to hide from Ross,” he murmured. “And me.”

You spun around, making a break for the door, sprinting at top speed. The wind knocked you back a couple of steps when you opened the door, enough that you felt Steve’s hand brush against the back of your shirt before you got your feet under you. The wind stirred up so much dust you could barely see fifty feet in front of you and golf ball sized hail plummeted to the ground around you. You were halfway down the trail leading away from the cabin when a hard body hit you from behind, muscled arms going around your waist and tackling you to the ground.

You attempted to brace your fall, but Steve rolled to his side, tucking you against his chest, holding you close. The top of your head hit his chin, earning you a “goddamn it” from the super soldier. You struggled to get away, to get out of Steve’s arms and moving again before he managed to contain you. But, he was too strong, his arms like iron vises wrapped around you.

“Jesus, Y/N, would you listen to me,” he growled. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to help.”

You hadn’t thought Steve would hurt you, not in a million years, but you’d been on the run and living in fear for too many months to trust anyone, even Steve Rogers. 

He managed to get you back into the cabin, even though you fought him every step of the way, the wind now blowing at hurricane speeds, lightning striking all around, rain and hail pelting both of you. You were both soaked to the bone by the time he got you inside and the door closed behind you.

“Sit down.” His tone left no room for argument.

You dropped into the nearest chair and folded your arms over your chest, silent, sullen.

“Why didn’t you let me help you?” he asked. “I could have done something -”

“I can take care of myself.” You raised your pinky finger, abruptly halting the rain and hail. Another twitch and the rain started again, a deluge.

“Shut it down, Y/N,” he ordered. “Stop it right now.”

You did as he asked, closing your eyes to help you concentrate better. After a few seconds, the wind slowed, the lightning stopped, as well as the rain and hail. When it was done, you opened your eyes and stared at him.

Steve sighed and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “You don’t get it, do you?” he sighed. “They will find you and they will lock you up. You’re just as dangerous as Wanda, a threat to their fragile idea of safety. Ross will not stop until you are on the Raft.” He crossed the room, his long legs bringing him to you in just a couple of steps. He crouched down in front of you, right between your legs. Water dripped from the collar of his jacket to the floor. “If they get you on that floating prison, I’m not sure I can help you.”

You wanted to believe him, but he’d broken your heart over and over again, too damn stubborn to accept his feelings for you, to stubborn to accept you for who you were, for who you could be if he would just let you love him. Being alone and on your own was better than fighting to love someone who couldn’t let himself love you back.

“Y/N, are you even listening to me?” he asked.

You nodded, forcing yourself to concentrate. “S…s…sorry,” you mumbled. “I’m so scared, Steve. Scared and angry, and when I’m scared, when I’m angry, I can’t always control myself…” You trailed off, aware that Steve knew exactly what happened when you were angry. It had happened in Berlin and people had gotten hurt, someone had died, and you could never take that back. You swallowed past the lump in your throat and tried to take a deep breath, to calm your frazzled nerves. Thunder crashed outside and branches scraped the roof of the cabin as the wind picked up again.

“Y/N,” Steve cautioned. He reached up and wrapped a hand around the back of your neck, pulling you down until your forehead rested against his. “You need to calm down or you’ll blow the roof off of this place.”

“I...I...c-can’t...breathe…” you gasped.

“Look at me,” Steve whispered. “Concentrate on me. Breathe with me.” He took a deep breath. “Do it, Y/N.”

You tried, but you couldn’t calm yourself down, couldn’t relax enough to stop the chaos erupting outside. Your entire body was shaking, your teeth chattering, your thoughts jumbled together into one mass of craziness. The wind howled, thunder cracked, and the rain intensified.

“St-steve, I can’t control it,” you mumbled. You couldn’t reel it in, couldn’t stop the powers erupting out of your body, the powers causing chaos you could no longer control. You were a monster, you deserved whatever you had coming to you, tenfold. “Y-you have to help me.”

“All right,” Steve muttered, rising to his feet. “Let’s get you out of these wet clothes.” He pulled you out of the chair and stripped you out of the thick denim and heavy sweater clinging to your wet body. Once you were down to nothing, he yanked the quilt from the bed and wrapped it around you before lifting you and lying you on the bed.

The shivering continued as you laid on the bed, watching Steve remove his clothes. The sight of his naked body took your breath away, the finely chiseled muscles of his serum enhanced body a sight to behold. He carefully laid the soaking wet fabrics over the chairs and table before opening the cabinet against the wall and taking out two additional blankets, moving around the room with a confident self-assurance that surprisingly you’d missed. He spread them over the bed, then he crawled in beside you, wrapped his arms around you, and hugged you to his chest, rubbing his huge hands up and down your body, warming you with his touch.

You buried your face against his chest, breathing him in, the scent of rain, leather, and Steve filling your nose. You were scared, terrified, but more than anything, you hated that it was Steve that was comforting you, holding you, that it was Steve who was there for you when you needed it most. You shouldn’t need someone so much, you shouldn’t ache for him almost everyday.

“I hate you,” you mumbled.

“I know,” he chuckled quietly.

You looked up at him, staring into those cerulean blue eyes, eyes that you saw in your dreams almost every night. He knew you were lying. You didn’t hate him, no matter what you said. You wanted him, you needed him, you craved him. And he felt the same way about you. You could feel it in his body, see it in his face, in the tilt of his head and the way his chin jutted forward just a fraction of an inch just before he kissed you, his mouth pressed to yours, his tongue dancing over your lips, his hands pushing beneath the blanket to caress your skin.

The wind outside slowed to nothing more than a steady breeze, the rain and thunder quieted as your breathing slowed and your body relaxed. Steve seemed to have that effect on you, a way of calming you when you were angry, of making you forget all that was wrong in the world. You hated him for, but you loved him for it, too.

“How?” you murmured. “How are you always able to do that?”

“Because you trust me,” he replied. “Whether you like it or not, you trust me.”

You nodded, your body relaxing into his, your heart rate slowing, breathing becoming slow and steady. He was right, you did trust him, more than you’d ever trusted anyone. It went against every fiber of your being, against everything you’d been taught, but you trusted Steve, trusted him with your life.

You took his hand, your fingers wrapping around his wrist, pulling his hand between your legs. “Touch me, Steve,” you murmured.

He smiled against your mouth, his fingers sliding through the lips of your pussy, teasing you, drawing a groan from you as he eased two of them inside of you, caressing your inner walls, scissoring you open. With his other hand, he pushed the quilt from your body and cupped your breast, kneading it gently, his thumb circling the nipple repeatedly until you were arching your back and pushing into his hand, greedy for more.

His lips were on your neck and Jesus Christ, he knew exactly where to kiss, where to bite in order to light your entire body on fire. Your arms snaked around him, one hand on the back of his head, the other splayed across his broad shoulders, your nails digging into his back. His fingers were buried deep inside of you, pumping slowly, barely moving, and you were going out of your mind with need, grinding against them, rotating your hips, so close to coming you could practically taste it. You moaned, his name a curse on your lips, a shudder racing through you.

Steve kissed you as he pulled your leg around his waist, the head of his cock brushing against the lips of your pussy. You pushed a hand between your bodies and took him in your hand, guiding him, and then he was entering into you, filling you completely. He held you close to his body, wrapped in the protective circle of his arms, his lips roaming over your neck and shoulders, but always coming back to your mouth so he could kiss you. His hips moved in a slow, even rhythm, his cock buried deep inside of you, his hands on your shoulders, pulling you down onto him, grunting as your walls clenched around him.

You wrapped your legs around his thighs, your hands on sliding down his back to his hips, your hips rising to meet every thrust, urging him to go harder, deeper, faster. You could feel your orgasm building, your skin tingling, a light sweat breaking out all over your body, your breath catching in your throat as the sensations rolled through you.

God, it was unbelievably intense, every touch loaded with hidden meaning, every kiss a promise of more. Steve took your hands, pulled them over your head, your fingers intertwined with his, holding them tight as he thrust into you over and over again, kissing you like he just couldn’t get enough. Every upward tilt of his hips pressed against your clit, the pressure combined with his cock filling you driving you right up to the edge. You let go with a shuddering moan of Steve’s name, coming so hard you felt faint, your head thrown back and eyes shut as the pleasure overcame you. 

Steve kept thrusting, working you through the orgasm, quiet words of praise falling from his lips. He buried his face against the side of your neck, his hips pumping furiously, moaning into your skin, his body tensing, his hands squeezing yours as his own orgasm took him. He kissed you just before he fell to your side, your hands still in his, legs tangled together, his buried between your neck and shoulder, kissing your neck.

You laid in each other’s arms, spent, Steve’s lips pressed to your pulse point, his breath blowing against your neck, your fingers dragging through the short hairs on the back of his neck. A ray of sunshine danced across the old wooden floor in vibrant rainbows and it was silent outside, the storm over now that you were calm and safe.

Steve’s head came up slowly and he squinted at the bright light now streaming through the windows. He rolled to his back, threw the blankets off, and pushed himself to his feet. He held his hand out to you.

“We need to get moving,” he said. “Ross won’t stop until he finds you. I have someplace safe I can take you.”

You hesitated, staring into the eyes of the only man you’d ever loved. He could protect you, you knew he could. He could protect you better than anyone.

“Y/N?” His blue eyes flashed, either with anger or concern, maybe both, you weren’t sure. “Are you coming?”

You dragged in a deep breath and took his hand.


End file.
